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ROAD TRIP TOWNSVILLE 09 by Patty Beecham – with asides from Chris Jackson
 Through Facebook networking, my hubby sold a car which needed to be delivered to Townsville, ashort 1337.64 km away from Brisbane. The vehicle also needed a canopy, which meant it wouldn’tbe ready until Friday, and a speedy delivery, so the road trip was shaping up to be a weekend journey:with my busy life this suited me, short and sweet, flying out of Townsville late Sunday night.A quick sms to mycj (My Friend Chris Jackson) and a joyful shout back saying yes! Yes! YES! andwe were on our way, earlyish Saturday morning after the glasses of wine the night before andcomplete lack of sleep had worn me down.Ron, her hubby, was sitting on the step with his camera ready to capture our departure, that’s what hetold us anyway, but I know Ron well enough to know that he was going to photograph the beautifulshiny red dual-cab, manual 4wd Colorado!Both CJ and I had discussed road trips we could take with each other over the years, and although wehad done several shorter ones together, including flying to the Hunter Valley for a weekend, this wasto be our big adventure. We even had our overnight bags, which we jokingly called our
 Running Away From Home
bags. We were packed. We didn’t really discuss Thelma and Louise, but in ourminds we were excited beyond belief that we were actually going to do this together! Woot!It wasn’t until we had reached Aspley, one of the northern suburbs in Brisbane, that I realised that myt-shirt was on backwards, a great start, I thought, as I glanced sideways to CJ. I swear she had sent 4sms dits on her mobile already! I relaxed into the seat, all new and shiny and stiff, and the roadloomed ahead.“Have your seen the new dealership building yet Chris?” I asked, and we made a quick detour atCaboolture and almost ran through hubby’s new building, me pointing this way and that, laughing, joking, and then yelling BACK IN THE CAR, NOW! (not the first time I was to utter that phrase) andwe were truly on our way.
 Almost.
It was 8am.I always feel the adventure doesn’t begin until you get past the point of no return, that familiarlandmark or road that you always turn down, the rest is unfamiliar territory.The exit for Maroochydore loomed to our left, Road Trip Adventure starts: NOW!Various road signs loomed in front with kilometre readings, but I ignored them as they have littleeffect until you need to know.
 
“We need a rabbit Chris” I tell her, explaining that a rabbit is someone who is prepared to drive a littlebit faster than you, and take the blow if there is a speed trap. Run rabbit, run!A selection of songs - SING LOUD – and we both settled into routine with the ease of old friends.It’s funny, but our friends think we both talk too much, however CJ and I don’t think that
:
we boththink we are vital, interesting and interested, curious people, who are actively involved in ourcommunity and others lives. We give each other space enough in our lives that we don’t knoweverything about each other, and yet we know each other intimately.We know our own strengths and weaknesses, we know we are loved, and we know who we love, weknow each others hopes and fears, we know the truth, and we know and understand each othersthought processes. It’s almost heaven! We are captivated hostages to our own thoughts, minds andopinions.In Gympie, we stop off at the shopping centre, so CJ can get some relief for her hay fever, it’s makingher eyes itchy and tired, and she grabs a cappuccino whilst there. I buy a large box of Lindtchocolates for mum when we arrive in Rocky that afternoon. It’s a nuisance to stop before we getinto the rhythm of the trip, but it had to be done.I give CJ my big Canon camera, so she can snap away and make her own memories, but the big lensis giving her grief, and it won’t focus for her. She’s missing a lot of photos, and so I pull over inChilders and sort it out, changing the lens to my little workhorse ‘snapper’, and she is now able tophotograph to her hearts content
 
We discuss everything, from our first kiss to our last lover, our husbands. We learn about God, andpraying the Rosary, and we discuss in great detail our friends, both present and newly past. Everynow and then Chris exclaims, “How good are we?” and I know she isn’t really asking, she’s telling.Even when we disagree, we are polite and nice to each other, we have respect, and patience, and itshows. If either of us were our husbands, there would be fireworks, but we both recognise the greatergood of the trip, and the amazing opportunity and privilege we have been given, we are Blessed.The road slides past gorgeous lush country, grass so thick you could dance on the tips, past AppleTree Creek, past disused sheds and crops, cows and agriculture, past the little road side crossesmarking someone’s grief and tragedy.In Gin Gin we are ravenous, and we quickly pull over to eat. It’s 11.30am, too early for lunch but trytelling our tummies. Must be the adrenalin! Fresh salad rolls are washed down with cold water, a
 
toilet stop, diesel, some phoon photos and Silver Lady photos in front of a giant wall map whichshows us we are still 13 hours away from Townsville, and it’s BACK IN THE CAR, NOW!
!
 
I try to keep my mother updated with our progress so she can follow us and not fret too much, so ateach mobile phone reception we gather our messages, and send our position to the waiting world.Creeks follow the road to the left, chocked with vines and weeds, they need a good flushing, thefamous tired old mud crab notes we are in Miriam Vale and the country changes to drier scrub,gnarled trees denote poor soil, so we know we are getting closer to Rockhampton, Beef Capital of Australia.I pull the car over at the Spire of Capricorn, which isn’t really, the actual crossing is south and forsome reason they changed it and moved it to the city, oh well, a quick tour of famous old haunts of mine, and then we buy some wine and it’s off to see mum and sort out plans to meet my friends.It’s funny to take someone who is a friend back to your own family home. The memories new and oldrush up to greet us on the steps, and mum is standing, as she always is, like a good and devotedsentinel, to meet us. Fortunately, I am able to bring up a large wooden trunk from my aunty, to mysister, plus a large painting and other stuff to be delivered in Bowen. I feel like Santa. I laugh andapologise if I become a bit sentimental, *I know, hard to believe, eh?* and I quickly show Chriswhere our room is, and then we are driving up to the very summit of Mt Archer to meet Jules andJohn.
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